


Lean On Me

by eternitywrites



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Pet Names, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternitywrites/pseuds/eternitywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peek into the lives of Doctor Boyfriend and Mr. French Fry Grease. Aoba has a rather rough night interning at the hospital. Noiz plies him with a bit of gross fast food and an endless amount of his love to cheer him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lean On Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilija](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilija/gifts).



> For dear Mika, who has been very patient for her sort of SS and allowed me to write a bit about her absolutely adorable modern job NoiAo AU! Hope you enjoy it!!!

Noiz gets the text while at the cash register. The restaurant is all but deserted so near closing time. He can hear his coworkers chatting it up in the back, whiling away the last dregs of their shift until they have to clean up. With nothing pressing to attend to, he doesn’t hesitate to scoop his phone out of his apron pocket and check it.

 **Häschen: Almost done here. I’ll be on my way.**  
**Noiz: I’ll try to get out asap**  
**Noiz: How was work baby?**  
**Häschen: I’ve had worse nights. See you soon.**  
**Noiz: But how was this one?**

He waits, but after some minutes there’s still no reply from Aoba. It’s as telling as an entire chain of texts.

 **Noiz: Hey are you alright?**  
**Häschen: I’m fine! Just tired**  
**Häschen: Don’t worry.**

A heavy sigh escapes past his lips. The temptation to push at Aoba’s buttons until the details are spilled bites at him, and his thumb hovers over the keypad for a few long moments before he pecks out a response.

 **Noiz: I’ll drive us back home. Love you Aoba**  
**Häschen: Love you too** ♥

He figures the conversation is something better done face-to-face.

A check of the time informs him that there’s a little less than half an hour left before the restaurant needs to be shut down for cleaning, and that’s too long a wait for Noiz. He puts his phone away and squints out the window. The parking lot is still deserted. He hopes it stays that way as he heads into the back office.

“Someone ring me up for a chocolate cake and a medium number three,” he says. “After that we can start putting everything away. If we’re quick we’ll probably be able to leave early.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” One coworker bounces up from his seat and stretches out his back. “I’ve got your order. I’ll wipe the tables when I’m done.”

The second one hesitates. She is the newest hire, a college freshman still largely uncertain about most of the procedures of her station, but her complete lack of inclination to goof off or spit in the food of annoying customers makes her alright in Noiz’s book. He has certainly trained worse people.

“So are last-second customers rare, Mr. Noiz?” She looks at the clock on the computer monitor. “I figured it’d happen all the time with the university so close…”

“We should be fine. Mid-shift is often like this.” says Noiz, rubbing the back of his neck to keep his hand from pulling out his phone again. A lot of the dishes are already clean. If he takes on the job of washing the heavier equipment and lets the other two see to the easier tasks he’s sure they’ll be able to make it out with time to spare. “And just Noiz will do.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Besides,” adds his other coworker as he readjusts his visor, “Only assholes would come in when we’re so close to shutting down on a Monday night.”

His words are a curse upon them, immediate and harsh. Noiz is just about to head over to the sink when he hears the front doors opens. It’s not one voice that soon fills the restaurant, but several, a particular one unmistakably that of an upset child. The three fry cooks aren’t even able to recover when the door opens a second time. The next set of voices are even louder than the first.

The more senior coworker groans and buries his head in his hands. The trainee turns a sorrowful gaze upward as if entreating the higher powers for mercy.

Noiz clicks his tongue and jerks his head at the grill waiting for them. “Let’s get to work,” he says, trying not to sound too grim as the child in the dining area begins to wail.

 

* * *

 

“Well, _that_ was just great.” His coworker’s words drips heavy and acidic with sarcasm around the unlit cigarette in his mouth. “We should get paid extra for tonight…”

“How did I know that was gonna happen?” The trainee sounds more woebegone than anything else, her spirit laid low by an exhausting night at work.

Noiz pulls his beanie over his head with one hand and clutches tight onto his bag of food with the other. They sting with the slightest gesture, still red from washing dishes in scalding water. It’s a small price to pay for speed in his eyes.

“We got it done without much trouble,” Noiz says. His feet hurt and he can feel the back of his head throb with a blossoming headache, but all in all Noiz considers this shift an unqualified success. “Could have gone worse.”

“Tell me about it. At least no one in this group of drunk dickheads threw up all over the table. Remember that, Noiz?”

“Oh, god…” The trainee shudders and pulls a face of disgust.

A thin smile tugs up at Noiz’s mouth. “That wasn’t so bad. Forcing him to clean up after himself was kind of fun.”

His eyes scan the parking lot while his coworkers swap more customer horror stories and spot a very familiar car sitting further away from the building. He bids his coworkers a brief farewell and strides over to it. Aoba is leaning back in the passenger seat, eyes closed and still dressed in his hospital scrubs.

He taps on the window with a knuckle when he reaches the car and Aoba flinches out of whatever daze he is in. Noiz doesn’t find it nearly as humorous as he might have during the day. The harsh light of the streetlight overhead just seems to emphasize how on-edge Aoba looks. The tension doesn’t fade from him even when Noiz slips into the driver’s seat after Aoba unlocked the doors for him.

Noiz tosses the food onto the backseat, and the following silence proves brief but crushing. Aoba looks him, lips thinned into a tight line. Noiz is suddenly grateful he didn’t press him about his day over the phone but now he finds himself at a loss, his mind casting about for the right thing to say and coming up with nothing. Aoba is the one who speaks first.

“Hello, Noiz.” His smile is half-hearted, his voice quiet. “I saw all those people crowding in. They didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”

Noiz chooses to roll with Aoba’s pace for the time being. He wants to know, desperately, what happened to Aoba at the hospital that makes him feel as if he’s sitting next to a tangle of live wires rather than a person, but through trial and error he has learned that yanking the truth out all at once sometimes does more harm than good. So he leans over and he kisses him, wondering if Aoba understands all that he’s putting into the touch. Perhaps Aoba does, or perhaps it’s wishful thinking on Noiz’s part that Aoba’s body softens a little when his lips press to the corner of his mouth.

“One of the kids was crying because we don’t have curly fries on the menu anymore.” They don’t part. Instead, Noiz wraps his arms around Aoba’s shoulders and pulls him as close as he can. Aoba slumps into him. “Then I introduced her to the magical concept of slushies. It went over pretty well. She told me she’s never tasted anything so amazing and her parents thanked me a million times before they left.”

“That must have made your shift, huh? Having a little kid think you’re so cool.”

Noiz can’t quite bring himself to deny such an accusation. “Well, she certainly handled herself better than the guy who wanted a kid’s meal toy we haven’t carried for months.”

Aoba laughs into the crook of his shoulder, rubs his forehead into it. Their position is a little awkward with the glove compartment between them, but Noiz isn’t about to let go so soon. His hold on Aoba tightens, and for a second he’s sure the deep breath Aoba takes is the prelude to him divulging his troubles.

“Noiz, you reek of ketchup.”

 _Patience,_ Noiz reminds himself. “Too gross for you?”

“Please. I’ve been around stuff a million times more foul than too much ketchup.” He snuggles closer to Noiz as if to prove himself. “But it smells like you took a bath in it.”

“The dispenser and I had a disagreement this evening.”

“You got it all over your shirt, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

Aoba shifts away. Noiz lets him go with half a mind to suggest they camp out in the car for the night instead of going home. They’ve done so on occasion, when both were worn to the bone from school and work and not at all up to the task of safe driving. The memories of those times never fail to warm him to the core, but he’s sure that whatever night Aoba experienced requires the comfort of sleeping in an actual bed to help make him feel better.

“Glad it’s your turn to do the laundry, then,” Aoba tells him. He tries for another smile and doesn’t quite make it. “Are you sure you can drive? I mean, I can probably still…I-I’m not that ti — ”

Noiz wonders if he should have held on to him for longer. He feels whatever upsetting Aoba lurking just under the surface of his skin, ready to burst forth despite the obvious effort it’s taking him to hold himself together.

“Relax, Aoba. I got it.” Noiz buckles for his seatbelt and Aoba follows suit. He glances at him as he starts the car. Aoba is staring at the window, hands on the headphones in his lap. Once they’re over his ears they most likely won’t be speaking much until they’re back at their apartment. Would it be too late by then?

“Hey.”

Aoba turns back to him, swallows, but doesn’t say anything.

“Do you really not want to talk about what happened at the hospital?” Noiz asks, searching his face for a sign he’s doing the right thing. Isn’t it bad to let these things fester in silence? Aoba would encourage him to talk if something bothered him, wouldn’t he? “I’ll listen.”

Aoba goes stiff, his eyes darting down and away at once. “It’s…it’s nothing. Nothing serious.”

“I doubt that.” Noiz drags his tongue against the back of his teeth before continuing. “I want to help.” _Please don’t close yourself off to me._

“I know. Thank you,” Aoba tells the passenger-side window. “I — later? I promise, later. Later tonight. But really, it’s just been an off day. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Noiz takes Aoba’s promise to heart. He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. Aoba puts his headphones on and flops back into his seat, eyes already screwed shut.

Just as Noiz suspected, the drive back home occurs without conversation. The only sound in the car is the faint melody of music from Aoba’s headphones. Something slow and meant to soothe. Noiz catches glimpses of his hands while he drives them down empty streets. Aoba keeps cracking his knuckles and bending his fingers this way and that, his mouth turned down tight and rigid. He waits until they’re caught at a stoplight to place his own hand over the agitated motion of Aoba’s, rubs his thumb against the back of one of them until Aoba’s grip on himself loosens and Noiz can cup one and bring it to his lips. It’s soft and smells just the tiniest bit rubbery from the gloves he wears at work. He doesn’t quite kiss it, just lets it rest against his mouth until it goes slack.

“Noiz…”

It’s a quiet breath, one that Noiz almost misses over the rumble of the engine.

“Hm?” He looks over. Aoba still has his eyes closed, but his expression is less strained. He slips his hand out of Noiz’s and brushes the side of his face with the pad of his thumb before withdrawing it back to his lap.

The light turns green. Noiz hits the gas and speeds down the street. Home is waiting for them.

 

* * *

 

“We’re back, Ren.”

Ren greets them in the hallway with his usual series of deep barks ill-befitting his diminutive size. Noiz doesn’t pet him, but he lets the dog dance around his legs without complaint until Aoba scoops him up and snuggles him. Ren licks his face, fluffy tail waving in acute excitement.

“Missed you,” Aoba murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re such a good boy for watching the house while we were gone.”

Noiz smiles a little at the scene. “I’ll fix his dinner. This is yours, by the way.” He waves the grease-stained paper bag.

Aoba peers at him from above a mound of thick dog fur. “Sure you don’t wanna split it?”

Up close and in the light of the house, Noiz notices the rawness of his eyes. “I ate at work.” He takes Ren out of his arms and dips in for a quick kiss. The dog breath and thin sheen of slobber on Aoba’s face isn’t something he minds too much, even if it isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world to him. “Eat, baby. You look like you could use the food.”

Aoba’s laugh is weary and dry. “I must look like a mess. I…yeah. I’ll eat. Thank — ah, wait, let me take your hat and jacket. Your work shirt, too. I’ll throw them in the hamper. You’re wearing something underneath it, right?”

It’s such a habit for the two of them that Noiz has already set Ren down and stripped himself of the clothing Aoba asked for before the thought of refusing crosses his mind. Guilt nips at him as he thanks Aoba and watches him turn the corner, then he opens the hallway door and pulls out Ren’s food. It’s not long before Ren is gulping down his early morning dinner without a care in the world. Noiz watches him rather wistfully.

“I wish food always worked as well on humans as it does on you dogs.”

Maybe the look Ren shoots him before returning his attention to his meal is one of sympathetic agreement. Or maybe not. Noiz snorts, feeling silly for trying to chat up a Spitz, and leaves him to his meal.

He finds Aoba already sitting at the dining room table. The food is spread out and joined by two tall glasses of orange juice. Half of the box of fries Noiz bought are on a napkin next one of the drinks. Noiz doesn’t protest. He sits down next to Aoba, only now aware of how tired he is from his own long evening, and ends up guzzling over half his orange juice in one go and devouring his fries in moments. Aoba eats at a more measured pace. The bites he takes out of his chicken club are small. He’s quick to put it down in favor of nibbling at a fry wedge, and that doesn’t last long either.

“Not hungry after all?” Noiz asks. He strokes Aoba’s knee under the table and feels it twitch against his fingers.

“I thought I was, but I guess my appetite’s…” Aoba furrows his brow as if frustrated by his own reluctance and reaches for the box of chocolate cake and a plastic spoon. “Did you make this?”

“We get them pre-made. My cakes would turn out terrible.”

“Maybe. I’d still try it, though.” Aoba takes a bite, and from what Noiz can tell it goes down his throat with all the ease of a jagged stone. His breath is loud and unsteady, and he glares at his cake with welling eyes.

“Aoba, don’t force yourself.”

He takes another bite, anyway, and that is when he cracks. He shoots up from his seat, slamming his spoon down onto the table.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Aoba’s words come out in a rush. Noiz stands up, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste, and catches Aoba in a tight hug before he can flee the room.

“Ah, _damn it…_ ” Aoba hisses with a shudder, pressing his face against Noiz’s shoulder.

“Look,” says Noiz against his temple, “there’s no point in holding it in. You can cry or scream. Whatever you need to do to feel better. It’ll be fine.”

Aoba’s arms wrap around his middle and squeeze like he’s trying to find a way to weld himself to Noiz. “It’s not _serious,_ ” he tells Noiz between muffled sobs. “I mean it, today wasn’t _that_ bad, why am I — I shouldn’t be letting it get to me like this!”

Noiz sighs and folds as much as he can of himself around Aoba. “Is it stress?”

Aoba nods, his tears dampening Noiz’s shirt. The bun his hair is in prevents Noiz from running his fingers through the strands, so he settles for cupping the back of his head.

“That seems pretty serious to me, Aoba. We’ll work through it, okay?”

“…Yeah.”

“Wanna sit back down?”

“No, I — I really should take a shower.” He raises his head and wipes at his wet face with the back of his hand. “But can we stay like this? Just for a few more minutes.”

It’s not a request Noiz can even dream of refusing. “Of course.”

The embrace is far longer than a few minutes, but to Noiz the time passes by in a blink. He inhales and exhales with slow deliberation until the frantic heaving of Aoba’s chest evens out against his, tightens his grip when Aoba’s body shakes. He trusts that explanations will come later. Right now he simply wants to ease him.

“Okay,” Aoba whispers. “Okay, I’m calmer.”

“Good. That’s good. Glad to hear it,” says Noiz, rubbing circles into his back.

Aoba’s lips are suddenly at his cheek, his nose, his mouth. The kisses are a bit messy thanks to Aoba’s leaking nose, but Noiz bathes in the affection, anyway, turning his face so that Aoba can reach more of him. A cold, tiny piece of him feels selfish for the indulgence at a time like this, but the rest of him can’t help it. He craves Aoba’s touch like a starving animal, takes whatever he can get whenever he can.

“I used your shirt for tissue,” his laugh is creaky but genuine as he wipes at the wet spot on Noiz’s shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s whatever. They’re all getting washed, anyway.”

“You can eat the rest of my food if you want,” says Aoba, reaching up and placing a kiss on Noiz’s forehead before stepping out of his arms. “I’ll be quick in the tub so you’re not stuck with cold water.”

“Don’t worry,” Noiz tells him. “If you use up all the hot water I’ll just keep my grease and ketchup cologne on for tonight. I’m kidding,” he adds when Aoba merely sniffs and purses his lips at him.

“Right. And when you’re done I’ll…I’ll tell you about my day. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good.” They exchange another kiss before Aoba heads out of the kitchen. “Take your time, Aoba.”

 

* * *

 

Noiz rests in the living room while Aoba showers, his textbooks and notes scattered across the coffee table where he left them before going to work that evening. Glancing through it reminds him that most of his assignments are going to be challenging, but his mind isn’t focused enough on homework to do more than flip through a chapter or two from a book on discrete mathematics and take only pieces of it in. He’s straining his ears to keep track of the distant sound of running water, and a few more minutes after he hears it shut off he heads into the bedroom.

Aoba is curled up under the bed covers, Ren tucked at his side. It’s a most inviting sight. The temptation to slip in bed with him is strong, fast food stench still clinging to Noiz be damned.

“You awake over there?” he asks, pulling a plain tee and a pair of jersey shorts out of the drawer.

Aoba nods, his tired eyes peeking out from the duvet pulled around him. “Did you eat?”

“Just more of your fries. The rest is in the fridge.”

Aoba hums his acknowledgment. “Noiz, if I fall asleep by the time you’re done you can wake me up. A promise is a promise.”

Noiz doesn’t think he’ll do that, but he assures Aoba anyway and takes his turn in the bathroom. The shower is about as swift as one that still counts as cleansing can be. It’s rejuvenating all the same. When he is finished and steps out of the bathroom Ren is sleeping on his cushion in the corner of their room and Aoba is sitting up in bed, looking expectant.

“Can I see your hands?” he asks when Noiz joins him.

Curious, Noiz holds them out. There’s a bottle of lotion in Aoba’s lap. He pumps some into his palm and rubs it over Noiz’s skin.

“You’ve gotta stop washing dishes without gloves, kiddo,” he says. “You know how bad the detergent is. It’ll wreck your skin.”

“Maybe you’ve just discovered my ploy to get you to hold my hands more often.” Noiz sighs in bliss. The call of sleep is hard to ignore when he’s clean, warm, and Aoba is beside him in bed. Only the need to hear about Aoba’s day keeps him from burying Aoba and himself under the covers and shutting down for the rest of the morning.

Aoba delivers a quick warning pinch to the back of his hand. “I hope not, you idiot! There are better, _safer_ ways to do that. Like just asking me. I’m not gonna say no most of the time.”

“Hm. I’ll keep that in mind.” Noiz lets him massage his hands for awhile before he speaks again. “Do you feel better?”

Aoba’s expression grows somber, but his nod is confident enough. “Yeah. I managed to sort my head out in the shower, more or less.” He keeps his eyes on their clasped hands. “Work tonight was really, _really_ shitty. In general, you know? One bad thing after another piling up…”

“So what made you think it wasn’t serious?”

Noiz decides it’s his turn to administer a massage. He rubs his thumbs into Aoba’s hands as he listens to him speak.

“That’s what I kept repeating in my head to calm myself down,” he says with a tired snort of laughter. “Did me a whole lot of good, as you can see. And…you know, I imagined talking to you about it when I was waiting for you in the car. I wanted to do it then, really, but everything I thought of saying just seemed so underwhelming, I guess. Like I was making a big deal about absolutely nothing. I ended up making myself feel like an absolute idiot for getting so upset.”

“You didn’t think I’d make fun of you or something, did you?”

“No, no, of course not!” Aoba shakes his head and squeezes Noiz’s hands. “I knew you’d help. And you did. Thank you so much. But by the time you got in the car I was so wrapped up in getting over it on my own that I kept my mouth shut. Even now I’m not sure if I should be bothered by most of what happened.”

“Just tell me,” Noiz insists.

Aoba takes a deep breath. “I try not to think this about the people I see, but God, tonight was just a parade of rude, crappy patients…one right after the other. Hardly any of them agreed with my diagnoses, I feel like I started arguments with every other person who came in, one guy almost put in a complaint about me…by the end of it my hands kept shaking and I was dropping instruments right and left. It was rough. But everyone goes through something like this. Or something worse. I’m just starting out. There’s no way it _isn’t_ going to get worse.”

“So what?” asks Noiz. He tilts his head down, trying to get Aoba to look into his eyes instead of at their hands. “None of that means you can’t complain at all.”

“I know.” Aoba hesitates, glancing at Noiz’s face before dropping his gaze again. “I thought my skin was thick enough, but after tonight…”

“You said yourself you’re just starting out. You’ll adjust.”

Aoba lifts one of Noiz’s hands and briefly presses his lips to a knuckle. “My last patient was the last straw. I don’t think my bedside manner was the best at that point, I definitely could have handled her better, but she wasn’t having any of what I tried to tell her about her illness. She sent me away and told me to bring her someone who’s competent enough to actually know what they’re talking about.”

Noiz bristles. “Seriously? Fuck that lady.” He wishes he can say more than that, but indignation on Aoba’s behalf is all he can offer.

“I knew you’d say something like that.” Aoba’s smile is weak, his hands stiff in Noiz’s. “It was bad timing, too. My supervisor was at lunch, otherwise she would have stepped in to save the night. Nothing I could do but go get her. I — shit. Normally I would have done my best to brush it off, and afterward my supervisor and I talked and I guess I didn’t do so poorly, but I can’t get it out of my head because…” He falters, brows knit.

“Because?” Noiz prompts.

“Because ever since I started interning I _haven’t_ been feeling competent,” Aoba admits at last. “They pretty much tossed us first years into the middle of the ocean, Noiz. I don’t know if I’m keeping up well enough, I’m terrified of what’s going to be said at my evaluation, everything I learned in school feels like its leaking out of my ears…Noiz, what if I can’t break through this wall? Even after all the work I put into getting to this point what if I’m just not cut out to be a doctor?”

“Here.”

“Wha — hey!”

Noiz scoots into a different position, pulling Aoba with him until his back is against the headboard and Aoba is lying between his legs, his back resting against Noiz’s chest. Noiz slips a hand under Aoba’s shirt, presses it against Aoba’s warm skin right where he can feel the beat of his heart. Aoba fidgets around a bit before stilling with a huff.

“Yes, Mr. Pushy?”

“I don’t know the first thing about medical care,” Noiz begins, leaning his head against Aoba’s. “So I can’t really offer any advice on your progress. Is being a doctor important to you?”

“Of course! It’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“Then, knowing you, you’re going to be a doctor. You’re so stubborn about things I don’t see how you won’t end up being a doctor if it’s what you really want in the end.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Partially,” Noiz tells him, taking Aoba’s elbow jab into his side in stride. “I worry sometimes, though. Give yourself time to get over that wall you were talking about. You don’t need to bash your head into it over and over again.”

“I’m sorry,” Aoba murmurs. “I honestly didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Apology accepted.” Noiz kisses his temple. “And for what it’s worth, I really do think you’ll make a great doctor one day. A few years from now you’ll have your license and lots of patients who go to you exclusively because they know that Dr. Seragaki truly cares about them.”

“You think so?”

Noiz doesn’t call attention to the waver in Aoba’s voice. “Mm-hm, and they’ll also go to you because you’re the hottest doctor they’ve ever seen.”

“What?”

“So many people will be longing for the day you’ll tell them to strip so you can perform a thorough full-body examination.”

“Are you imagining my future as some kind of hospital porno?!” Aoba digs his elbow deeper into him, but he’s laughing so Noiz figures he isn’t too disapproving and laughs with him. When they settle down, Noiz opens his mouth to suggest they turn in for a few hours, but Aoba speaks before he does.

“One last thing. You deserve to hear all of what’s been stressing me out. You’ve been so good to me, Noiz, and lately I feel like I haven’t been able to return that to you like I should.”

“You’re wrong. That's not true at all.” Noiz tells him at once, his body tensing on reflex.

“Ever since I started interning all I’ve been able to do is work and then sleep like the dead on my weekends. I’m not making enough time for you, am I?”

“We’ve talked about this beforehand, haven’t we?” asks Noiz, feeling something rather weighty drop into the pit of his stomach. He wants nothing more than to spend more time with Aoba, but… “This schedule is about what I expected when you explained it to me.”

Aoba’s hand joins Noiz’s under his shirt, their fingers slipping between each other’s. “Maybe so, but the reality is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I might have been too optimistic starting out.”

“It’s fine,” Noiz assures him. “I’m happy. Really happy. Being with you like this is more than enough for me.”

“If you’re sure. But if you feel lonely or ignored please let me know, okay? You’re important to me, too.”

Noiz thinks it over. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll do that, and you’ll talk to me when you feel like everything is too much for you. You can rely on me.”

“Deal.”

“Do you have your two weeks set yet?” asks Noiz as relief dissolves the heavy, cold thing inside him before it can take root.

“Not yet. It might be too early for that.”

“Tell me whenever you can. I wanna put in my days off at work so we can plan a vacation without anything getting in the way. We need one, don’t you think?”

“That sounds amazing,” Aoba says with a dreamy sigh. “I’ll ask my supervisors on my next shift.”

“And since our weekend’s starting we should go out when we wake up. We haven’t taken Ren to the park in awhile.”

“But what about your homework?” Aoba looks back at him “And the laundry.”

Noiz scoffs. “Like I can’t handle an all-nighter or two? I don’t have any tests to study for, just loads of assignments.”

“You still need proper rest! You aren’t sleeping in class, are you?”

“No, Mother, I’m not,” says Noiz with mock-innocence. “I pay attention like a good boy.”

“Don’t be a smartass, I just want you to stay healthy.”

“I know, I know. So. How about it?”

Aoba grumbles. “I guess all-nighters can’t hurt you too badly if you don’t do it all the time…fine. Let’s go out.”

“And if you’re worried about the laundry, we can always do that together, too…”

“Nope. You’re on your own.” Aoba sticks out his tongue. “I promise the washing machine isn’t going to eat you if you go near it.”

“Now who’s being a smartass?”

Aoba laughs again, crawling out from between Noiz’s legs and lifting the duvet besides him. “Aw, if you’re gonna pout about your chores like that I’ll at least think about helping out. For now, let’s go to bed.”

“As you wish.” Noiz isn’t pouting for long. The kiss he steals from Aoba as he settles into bed is long and gentle. He isn’t sure if he manages to make it under the covers before sleep claims him, but the last things he sees remain clear in his mind even hours later: a sky growing lighter with the rapid rising of the sun and Aoba’s peaceful smile.


End file.
